Reunion
by Allocin
Summary: Dean always comes. It's a fact of life. No slash.


TITLE: Reunion

AUTHOR: Allocin   
SUMMARY: Dean always comes. It's a fact of life.  
RATING: G   
CATEGORIES: Gen

SPOILERS: None  
CHARACTERS: Dean, Sam, John  
A/N: Shameful hero-worship. Not at all what I intended to write, but oh well.  
DISCLAIMER: _Supernatural_ and characters are not mine. I make no profit from this. Don't sue plzkthx.

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Dean always comes. No matter the circumstances – whether John's been beaten to a bloody pulp (not often, but it happens), or Sam's gone missing (not always involuntarily, but sometimes) – Dean whizzes back to them like a damn boomerang. Or a heat-seeking missile. Probably more of the latter, because he normally explodes with curses once he's patched them up and set them straight. "Goddamn bastard", "stupid asshole", "clumsy motherfucker". It's not always convenient – John had the situation under control, thank you very much – Sam didn't want to be dragged back from the train station when he was twelve – but it's predictable. Dean's only weakness is his family, and he will do everything in his power to save them from themselves.

So when Sam finds himself chained to some wall like an extra in a bad porn movie, his dad unconscious in a pool of his own blood a few feet away, it's understandable that – though he's rightfully scared for his safety – he doesn't think it will be too long before Dean bursts in, both guns blazing, and saves the day. Call it Little Sibling Syndrome if you want, but Dean always comes. It's a fact of life. The sun sets, he turns sixteen in a few weeks, his dad is going to be furious that this spirit-ghost-demon-thing got the best of him, and Dean will be there very soon.

The thing approaches, all shuffling steps and slavering jowls, decay and rotting meat stuck in its teeth. Sam wants to hurl, the smell is that bad. It has six inch claws on the end of each digit and a wicked gleam in its eye. Almost consideringly, it reaches out to stroke one sharp claw down Sam's cheek. Sam has to hold his breath, but doesn't dare close his eyes. He sees the movement to the left just before the gunshot goes off with a deafening crack that echoes all throughout the cave. Demon blood splatters across his face, but at least it's not trying to feel him up anymore. Blinking through the gore, Sam sees Dean storm out of the darkness, scowling as he faces off the creature. Sam notes that he has two guns, and can't help but grin. Dean's here, he's come, just as Sam knew he would.

Dean fires. And keeps firing. Bang. Click. Bang. Click. Bang. One gun, then the other, bullet then rock salt. He wasn't at the library, he doesn't know what will kill it, but most things will run away if you shoot enough. This thing is no different, and quickly turns tail and leaves through the only other exit. Dean spits after it, drops his guns and runs to John. Sam waits with baited breath until Dean slaps his dad on the arm, hard, eliciting a low rumble of a groan. Dean rolls his eyes.

"Little help, here?" Sam calls. His fingers are numb from being held over his head for so long.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean mutters, and picks the lock. Sam rubs his chafed wrists and looks his brother over.

"Jesus, Dean. You look worse than me," he comments. Little nicks and cuts litter his brother's face.

"So I had a fight with a thorn bush. You got a problem with my rescue effort, Geek Boy?" Sam scowls, but their father groans again before he can answer. "C'mon," Dean says. Between them, they manage to support most of John's weight and step-stagger from the cave. They settle him in the backseat of the car, a blanket under his head and towel pressed briefly to the slice in his scalp.

"Dean?" he says groggily. The engine roars to life as Sam slips into shotgun.

"Yeah, I'm here Dad," Dean assures him, and peels through the undergrowth.

"How'd you find us?" Sam asks. The car bumps onto the main road so that Dean actually pays some attention to obeying the driving rules. He shoots Sam a cocky look.

"I followed the trail of destruction … and the notes you left all over the library. Dude, some organisation would help me save your ass a lot quicker." Sam snorts and folds his arm.

"Says the guy wearing odd socks," he mutters. Dean slaps his head for that comment, turns the radio on, and lets out a deep sigh. Sam knows he's winding down, letting the adrenaline ebb. With Sam and John in the car with him, Dean's happy, relaxed, and laughs when his brother complains about the music.


End file.
